


that itch, it keeps calling

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Dark Angel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Arguing, Artist Alec, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Jock Ames, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Pining, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Trope Bingo Round 12, Unexpected Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Alec had a gift, a talent that could anger or shock or amuse or even take his breath away.He was the only person who could drive Ames completely up the wall.High School AU & Human AU.





	that itch, it keeps calling

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the corroding of the sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455999) by [Taste_of_Suburbia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia). 



> This is a fill on my Trope Bingo [card](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/30129.html) for Unexpected Friendship. This is set before my fic ‘the corroding of the sun,’ but Ames and Alec meet a little later in this fic. 
> 
> Title and lyrics are taken from Nonpoint’s ‘Breaking Skin.’

 

_~We’re weaker than we care to admit_

_We scratch and itch, we’re graveyard shifting_

_Biting and barking, fueling and sparking_

_That fire, that itch… and breaking the skin again~_

* * *

 

Ames didn’t know when it had started to become a habit; half the time he didn’t even recall his path from English Lit to the long, quiet hallway leading down to the Art Studio. He was thinking about homework or his reading list that was two pages too long or football practice or AP Chemistry kicking him in the balls. He didn’t have one bone in his body that was art inclined, had no interest in drawing or painting or constructing the collages that littered the halls with pictures and mementos of his time spent here.

He’d been hell bent on getting out since halfway through his freshman year and finally, this was his last year.

Not that Ames had been bullied and taunted mercilessly, far from it. His penchant for football had gotten him a lot of ins and a lot of friends. People actually listened to him when he talked and even tended to follow his lead as time progressed, and those not in that inner circle of the best of the best, which he mostly commanded, would avoid him at all costs in the cafeteria, the hallways and even his classes, knowing their place. As long as they weren’t in his way, Ames didn’t bother with them. He was above such petty activities as bullying.

So being a jock and a football star had its perks, lots of them, and the only thing that really seemed out of place was  _Alec._

Alec, who was always the first out of his classes, head held low and tucked against his chest like his ever-present portfolio, large and awkward and fit to burst with all its pages sticking out at odd angles. Alec, who always looked surprised to see him even though Ames had been meeting him after class for well over two years now, having been the one to get him into said art courses in the first place.

Alec was the kind of kid that kept to himself. He wasn’t shy, just didn’t talk much unless Ames was the only one around. Then, he’d talk a mile a minute and pout whenever Ames couldn’t keep up. Okay, so maybe Alec was a bit shy when Ames tried to pull him outside his shell, though he wasn’t a geek or a nerd either, not unless you counted carrying pencils and continuously having his head ducked down, mind wandering, inconveniently tuned out of reality as he drew as  _nerdish_ behavior. 

But he did sometimes wear these glasses - kinda sexy, kinda  _fitting_ \- that made him look smarter than he actually was; although, if he actually  _applied_ himself, Ames was ashamed to admit Alec could outscore him in anything math or science or even literature related. 

So he wasn’t exactly prime meat for getting picked on and yet, he probably would be if Ames hadn’t wordlessly declared him off-limits.

Even without Ames, Alec could actually fit in if he wanted to. Even when he wasn’t the most social person, people tended to flock to him whenever he was working on something big, or lazy enough to doodle pretty accurate caricatures that had people laughing and talking about him in spaces that were usually sport or fashion inclined.

Ames didn’t mind and that was why he kept Alec close. Alec had a  _gift_ , a talent that could anger or shock or amuse or even take his breath away. 

He was the only person who could drive Ames completely up the wall.

And he was the only one who had ever actually made him speechless with just a simple sketch, no more meaningful to Alec than being strewn across the floor or shoved unfinished in a trashcan or stuffed away in his portfolio rarely ever to be pulled out again.

Ames would scoop them up whenever Alec wasn’t looking and tuck them away: safe, secure, mementos of a beauty and fragility Ames had always pretended meant nothing to him but actually meant  _everything_ from the moment he decided he could want Alec, claim him, show him off to the world only to have him still be his. 

But he could never  _keep_ Alec. 

Alec was his own person, he could run and hide and stray where Ames couldn’t follow. In fact, he was determined to do just that most days.

So eventually, despite his better judgment, Ames complicated his life in ways that consisted of convincing Alec to stay: following Alec out to the middle of nowhere and just sitting there for hours among the heat and the bugs, watching him draw; practically buying him a row in the bleachers so that he could be within eyesight whenever Ames couldn’t bow out of football practice; letting him stay in his room during restless nights and even more restless weekends, eating all his food, consuming all his air, refusing to scoot the hell over so Ames could sit down too.

And then Ames had taken it too far when Alec had started to wander even further: kissing him, playing with him, rolling around with him in the grass, on his bed, in a white puddle of forgotten, half-finished sketches littering his floor. Once in a pile of leaves, twice on his living room couch, fumbling around underneath the bleachers, in a supply closet, underneath Ames’ heavyweight, symbolic sports jacket that Alec had a penchant for stealing.

Even still, Alec’s mind was always wandering, fingers tap tap tapping a beat on Ames’ shoulder or knee or thigh, mind running a hundred miles a second, warm green eyes flickering with roads and fields and trees and Ames’ persistent hands and ravenous mouth and blurs of people that meant as little to Alec as his life did.

It was always the next frantic sketch, the sharp smile of someone who only saw life as a game, enjoying each moment as it came, the teasing and the joking and the silence whenever Ames was shut out, always trying to run after an Alec he could never keep up with and therefore never truly follow.

It was the greatest tragedy of Ames’ young life that he had met Alec and fallen this hard, that he could never convince himself to stop running, stop searching, cease the endless chase that plagued his own fiercely determined mind. He wasn’t a wanderer like Alec was, he had aspirations and goals and responsibilities, friends and status and football and endless piles of homework, equations and novels laden with symbolism to keep up with.

And Alec… Alec had his drawings and he had the candy store rotting his teeth downtown and he had people that oohed and aahed at his landscapes and that laughed at his grossly exaggerated though still realistic sketches but not at  _him_ , and he had Ames too. 

But maybe he didn’t really know about the latter.

Maybe he’d never truly realized it, not even the moment he’d run into an intimidating, furious Ames who had just lost one of his biggest games of freshman year. Alec had mumbled apologies as he knelt down, a necessary but awkward bow until Ames realized that his true concern had been on the pages that had fallen loose from his worn sketchpad. Ames had beat him to it, hands going for the pages instead of Alec’s head, hands that were already clenching, ready to crumple and tear what was held so entirely at his mercy until he made the mistake of looking down.

He had blinked, staring dumbfounded at the dark outlines of a familiar field and parallel sets of bleachers until his gaze was drawn to the hunched forms in the very center, clad in heavy attire and helmets, the sun beating down on them. Ames could see in nothing but pencil lines and imagination and  _talent_ all the glory and status and confidence and finality that made up Ames’ life, how he would always be out on that field whether a past win or a loss, whether the sun was shining or the rain pouring, whether he aced all his courses or made it into an Ivy League school or not. 

His friends were at his back, always ready to intervene, but they weren’t seeing what Ames was seeing, didn’t care, tiny brains unable to fathom such skill and dare he say it? Such  _beauty._

He almost handed the sketch back, then realized he didn’t have to and clutched it tighter to his chest. “What did you think of the game,  _freak?”_

Alec glanced up, sharp, curious eyes meeting his own, eyes as green as that field, as bright as that sun, intelligent eyes that flickered to the sketch Ames had claimed and back to him within the space of a heartbeat. “I thought it was well-played for the first game of the year. A little more offense needed, but only by the second half.”

Ames handed him back the other sketches, not indulging in more than a peek. There’d be plenty of time for that later. “I’ll see you at our next game,” and it wasn’t a question but a warning. A threat he had had no doubt Alec understood. “I’m keeping this page by the way, memento of our first loss and all. Some sort of a pep talk, for us to do better.”

Murmurs of asset around and behind him calmed him enough so that he knew he wasn’t completely out of line, that he could walk away from this with his character intact.

_A reminder that it doesn’t matter, that win or lose there’s someone out there that can capture that_ magic,  _that_ fire. 

“You stick around long enough, kid, and we might just decide you’re useful enough to keep around.”

He had certainly been useful enough in Ames’ case, fascination quickly morphing into dangerous infatuation. In a school and world where Ames could fairly easily have anything and everything he wanted, he just had to reach out and take it, Alec was the one thing he could never  _fully_ possess. 

Still, he waited. He stalked the hallways, possessively impatient, sometimes feeling every bit the jilted lover, waiting for one word or one look that would be  _enough,_ worth all the money and fame and trophies in the world. 

Justification for every one of Ames’ trials, every ounce of his assuredness.

Even now, when the world had started expanding around them, meaning Ames had further room to grow and Alec had farther to slip away and  _run._

Alec was out early today, already rushing down the hallway two beats after Ames had made it to the door. Ames caught his arm as he tried to slip by and Alec looked up, startled, appearing every bit the trickster with something to hide.

Ames released him, though not before momentarily tightening his grip on Alec’s arm in fury. “You got kicked out, didn’t you?”

Ames breathed even as storm clouds crowded in on him, intent to choke him. He had practice in under an hour and a growling stomach that needed to be fed and a four-hundred page book due tomorrow that was only half-way read and  _still_ too many  _goddamn_ reasons to kick Alec’s ass right now. 

“I know, I know,” Alec answered, the two dumbest words of assurance Ames had ever heard spill from his mouth, and he used those words  _a lot._ “Let’s just…”

Ames kissed him to shut him up, probably not the best move of the day, but if Alec’s peppermint scented breath couldn’t calm him down then he didn’t think anything would.  _You love this fool, don’t forget that. Don’t keep pushing him away, just… make out and pretend nothing happened, despite how_ hard  _you worked to get him seats in those classes, to get him a place right beside you, just don’t…_

Instead of peppermint, however, Alec tasted of sawdust and chalky chap-stick and…

“Paint?”

Alec licked his lips then rubbed them on the back of his hand, shrugging and stepping back to adjust the large portfolio under his arm. “Acrylics. If I’d known about it, I would have skipped today.”

Ames shot him a glare and rolled his eyes simultaneously, which didn’t really  _work._ “Alec, the whole point of all of this is to make you try different  _things."_

Alec swung an arm over Ames and, clumsily, his entire portfolio spilled out all over the floor, light pencil sketches and crayon thick pages and paint splattered images as fascinating as they were striking. He picked one up emphasizing the jagged, dark outlines of a house: tall, thin and crooked windows, vines snaking their way between the panes; a yard so overgrown it seemed to rise up and take a life of its own;a darkness that consumed the background just as much as it did the foreground. He studied it for several moments before Alec snatched it away.

The problem with Alec was that he didn’t like anybody seeing his work; except, what was the whole point of it then?

Ames huffed. “Look, if you’re so set in your ways then just drop out. See if I care. But I’d think you’d want to start being less of a  _freak_ . Hell, with your newfound popularity around here, I’d think you’d start getting commissions.” Of course, both of them knew that Alec’s sudden skyrocketing popularity was due to Ames pulling some strings more than anything else. What could he say? He was pretty damn good at manipulating the majority of the student body to get what he wanted. Not everyone though. 

And especially not Alec.

Alec did what Alec wanted and that was that, though it didn’t mean it pissed Ames off any less.

“Just cool it, okay?” Alec asked, this whole chill attitude of his lately infuriating Ames. “You blow everything out of proportion, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s the rest of your life, Alec!” He growled, shoving him against the wall as he moved past him, once more scattering Alec’s portfolio; what did it matter, if he didn’t  _care?_ “It’s the choice between working some dead end job for the rest of your life or actually being able to go to art school and maybe do what you  _love_ .”

Some people had stopped on the way to their classes and started openly staring at them, so Ames figured he’d better cut his losses and move on before parts of him he didn’t want exposed were aired to the entire school. Every time he tried to get Alec motivated or inspired about something, it backfired. Sometimes, it was like talking to a brick wall, except that  _stupid_ brick wall liked to talk back. 

Alec followed, irritated though not  _nearly_ as much as Ames was, who was intent on pushing him away again though also just as intent on dragging him closer and trying to crush him with his own hands out of his entire fucking  _existence._ His words were stupid and vain and so fucking ignorant Ames couldn’t for the  _life_ of him understand why he was drawn to  _this_ fucking train-wreck of a boy. “I  _will_ be able to do what I want for the rest of my life. That’s the point. Just paper and pencils and…”

He whirled back around once they’d reached an  _empty_ hallway. Every time he always swore to not let Alec get on his nerves and every time he  _still_ did. “Oh,  _shut up._ You know what I mean, Alec. Does it hurt so much to open your whole fucking worldview a little? Just raise your expectations a  _bit_ ?”

“It does if they don’t work out,” Alec retorted. He shifted his portfolio awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation though still having it. Ames had had a bitter taste more than once of Alec’s doubts, his self-deprecation, his lack of confidence so vastly  _far_ from Ames’ own. 

It was why Alec always ran instead of fought, always tuned out rather than tuned in.

And Ames, like he always was guilty of doing,  _caved._ “I’m just trying to help you, you  _freak.”_

And was gifted with a snort. “The whole school is trying to help me, hell, the whole  _world._ Why can’t all you people just leave me be?”

_Because I_ love _you, you fucking_ idiot.  _Because you’re one of the only things worth fixing and I_ can’t  _fix you because you don’t want to_ be _fixed._ “Is that what you want, Alec? For me to leave you be?”

“Not like that. We’re still friends, White,  _best_ friends. Just get off my case, okay?”

He adjusted the portfolio again and Ames had had  _enough._ “Give me that  _stupid,_ fucking portfolio. Just…,” he cut himself off, snatching it away from Alec, who sighed and slunk back against the lockers, spent and yet chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully while he gazed up at Ames with a smirk on his face. 

“What?” Ames demanded, trying to stuff papers back inside the large folder without crumpling them  _too_ badly. 

“You totally get all riled up and horny when we fight. Just admit it.”

Ames rolled his eyes and started back toward civilization. “You’re an idiot,” he accused, though turned when Alec clasped his hand and dragged him back. He was a lot stronger than Alec and could have broken away if he wanted to, but at that point, he didn’t really want to. 

“I’ve been thinking about your tight ass in those thin pants all day, out on that field.”

“Yeah?” Ames played along, jamming Alec hard back against the lockers, nipping voraciously at the fool’s bottom lip. “You gonna draw me this time or is my ass too perfect for you to replicate on the page?”

“Maybe,” Alec teased, capturing Ames’ mouth in a kiss that coursed through his entire body like electricity before he moved down  _to_ that ass. “It gets you all excited, doesn’t it? The idea that we might get caught?”

Ames’ hands ran through Alec’s hair, tousling it messily and then wrapping around short, unruly, ridiculously soft strands - hair didn’t have any right to be this  _soft -_ and jerking Alec’s head up. “You’re the one who needs to be worried about that. With your grades where they are, you’re one wrong move from suspension.”

_Or being a college dropout._

That was where Alec was headed, as far away from Ames as he could possibly get, intentionally, unintentionally, what did it matter?

And yet they were still here, still locked in their dysfunctional world, just the two of them for the next six months.

“Shut up and kiss me already, White,” Alec challenged. He was already, however, begging down on his knees, eyes wide and catlike and with not the slightest touch of innocence in them. “Then I’ll show you just how badly I want to get suspended.”

Was it so bad really, Ames keeping the key to their locked world hidden from Alec’s view, keeping him here: Ames’ pet, Ames’ muse, Ames’ lover?

Was it so bad really, to want to throw away that key, bury it deep, where the world and Ames’ plans and Alec’s determination could  _never_ touch it?

The taste of Alec’s skin was answer enough.

**FIN**

 

 


End file.
